


The Light(weight)

by ElectricViola



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Despair, Desperation, F/F, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gen, Intense, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Non-Con, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Roughness, Sensory Deprivation, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 07:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6461125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricViola/pseuds/ElectricViola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never take a lightweight drinking. Never let that lightweight touch you. Don't let that touch corrupt you. Do not let your corruption spread onto others. And do not, under any circumstances, let that change the course you have chosen for yourself.</p><p>Or perhaps you should. It's all very confusing for Kylo Ren.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light(weight)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I'm a bit very drunk, I shouldn't be doing this

Never take lightweights to the club. His father told him that when he was a boy… And Kylo had taken his word for it, because his reasoning was sound and persuasive. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell who was a lightweight and who was not.

Rey sat there, her head tilting this way and that like a bobblehead. Subtly at first, and the quite discernibly to anybody who looked on. 

He gasped despite himself when her hands connected with his upper thigh. He decided not to make something of it, until deliberately, her hands slide up.

“I want you,” she whispered.

His eyes, unfortunately beyond his control, connected with Hux’s narrow slits that he calls eyes. He witnessed the entire exchange. Everything was suddenly doubly awkward.

“Phasma,” he started.

“No,” said Rey.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he snaps irritably, painfully aware of the telltale heat flashing through his stomach. “Phasma, will you please take her home?”

“Why don’t you take her home, Ren?” asks Hux with exaggerated innocence.

“Nooo…” she whined. He assumes this was a delayed reaction to what he said rather than what Hux said. “Yessss…” and that was the answer to 

“Yes,” he says curtly. “Phasma, please.”

“Sir, I regret to inform you that I have a prior engagement.” Her words are crisp and sharp—more so than his, that is certain. She is probably the only one who isn’t drunk here. When he uses that fact to advocate her taking Rey back to her rooms, he simply gets shut down with the exact same words. As if she believed he was too drunk to realise otherwise. He suddenly realised she didn’t really give a shit if Rey got home safely—but she was Phasma. So she knew, no doubt, that he wouldn’t do anything untoward to gain Rey’s favours, even if only for this night.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah… I’m definitely the drunk one here.”

Half-carrying her all the way to her chambers was not something he was willing to go through again, not with the army of Stormtroopers turning their heads to watch the spectacle. He wishes he had at least kept his helmet to guard his face—to guard it from this humiliation, that is. Although, he thought vindictively, this would be infinitely more humiliating for Rey.

“Key?”

“Isn’t being drunk the besssst…”

“Uh-huh. Where is your key?” he asked, suddenly worried that he’d lost it.

“It’s in my… it’s in my…” She started to gesticulate towards her breast. He looked down. He caught a look of her shirt riding low—his ears reddened when he realised what she was trying to say.

“Well, take it out,” he said it with unnecessary venom, eyes fixed on the door. “unless you want to sleep on the street tonight.”  
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her head turned down to fish for her keys.

He still supported her in his arms because otherwise she would be on the floor. But he refused to look at her, staring at the wall instead. She moved a lot in his arms, groaning and grunting in effort to dig out her key from her chest wraps, and he was still resolute in not looking remotely in her direction.

“Umm…”

“For the love of God,” he spat when she came up empty handed.

**Author's Note:**

> Please do let me know what you think... We writers and artists crave feedback, positive or negative. Either way this is far from over, I'm just so close to throwing up and passing out that I couldn't loom at the screen for another second if my life depended on it.


End file.
